


Drabble Collection

by ApostateRevolutionary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Multi, Tags will be updated as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 6,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRevolutionary/pseuds/ApostateRevolutionary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various short ficlets and drabbles I've written, most of which are Anders-centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Notebook (Anders/Karl)

**Author's Note:**

> No real order here at all. Pairings featured in each can be found in the chapter titles ^^
> 
> EDIT: Changed rating to reflect most recent additions. Chapters 1-7, 10-15 are SFW, and 8-9 are NSFW.

Anders had a notebook in Kinloch Hold. In it, he made list after list of places he wanted to see and things he wanted to do when he was finally free. Whenever he was supposed to be studying, he’d instead search through books in the library (preferably ones with pictures) for new things and places to add. He even wrote it in code so if the Templars found it, they’d think it legitimate notes rather than the tiny rebellion it really was.

Over the course of his escapes, he even managed to see and do a few. Stand in the rain, see the ocean, climb a tree, get a sunburn; little things like that. Many were larger and further away, of course, but each and every one he achieved, no matter how small, was a victory to him.

When his second-to-last attempt landed him in solitary, it was thinking of these things that kept him strong at first. After all, he’d read it so many times he basically had the book memorized. But eventually, when the confinement had worn on him for long enough, he completely forgot about it and the dreams he’d kept within.

Until one day hurried footsteps arrived outside his door, only pausing to slip a small, leather-bound book into the cell before starting up again. It was that notebook, and the mage who’d risked himself to deliver it, that brought Anders back from the brink and reminded him what hope felt like. Well, that notebook and the small note written inside it:

_Stay strong. - Karl_


	2. Victory (Anders/Hawke)

Just imagine Anders finding out about Divine Victoria giving mages true freedom. His eyes widening as he reads the last line of a news pamphlet, repeating it out loud to make sure it’s real.

“…and her Holiness has called for an end to the Circle of Magi and declared that mages shall now govern themselves.” he mumbles, as his hands start to shake and his grip tightens on the parchment.

Then he turns to Hawke, who’s smiling gently, and they catch him as he collapses into their arms, the healer caught somewhere between laughing and crying.

All he can think is that it’s over, that they’ve _won_. That no mage will ever be forced into a Circle again, forced to experience the suffering and horrors he and so many others had. That what he’d done was _worth it_ , and now the moment he’d worked so hard for had finally come.

And Hawke just holds him, rubbing his back, smiling to themselves to see him happy, _truly_ happy. And as Anders’ tears dry, he pulls back with a grin and kisses them excitedly, not out of passion or lust or a need for comfort, but out of sheer joy and delight.

When they leave the embrace, Hawke notices the way Anders is standing. His shoulders are no longer heavy and he is tall, proud, and fearless, his burden finally lifted. His eyes look forward, toward the horizon, instead of at the ground. His battle won, Anders is a man reborn; no longer tortured and broken, but strong and triumphant. And maybe, just maybe, for the first time they see just a glimmer of hope in him, shining through the fear and hurt that always hid on the edge of his expressions.

It was truly over, and Anders was finally able to taste his victory.


	3. I am here for you (Anders/Justice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from tumblr and AO3 user StormDragon: "Justice/Anders prompt, I am here for you."

Anders woke with a start to pitch darkness. He immediately sat up, sucking in shallow breaths as he scrambled to find the candle that had apparently gone out while he was asleep. When he couldn’t, he shut his eyes against the blackness, trying, and failing, to focus on calming down. He wasn’t in the cell, he wasn’t trapped, he wasn’t alone. Well, he was alone, that part was true, and the mage briefly chastised himself for still being bothered by it after so long. He should be used to that by now.

Faintly, the blonde became aware of Justice uncoiling from the back of his mind, making his presence known and coming forward, concerned by the healer’s distress. Anders was too panicked to properly acknowledge the spirit, his body starting to shake, breath coming in gasps. _No, no, no, not alone, not in the dark. Need to get light, light makes it better. Have to calm down to get the light._ He thought, his hands curling into fists.

Justice came forward more, requesting partial control, clearly trying to be gentle about it so as not to startle his mortal. The mage forced himself to take a deep breath, slowly pushing the air out, calming himself just enough to relinquish control. Anders felt the spirit take his right hand, unable to see since his eyes were still screwed shut. Gently, Justice used the hand to cup Anders’ cheek, wrapping his presence around the mage’s consciousness protectively as he did so, hoping to calm the panicked healer by acting as a barrier against his darker thoughts. Justice let the hand rest there until Anders had relaxed enough to lean into it, his breaths no longer shallow.

Slowly, the blonde’s eyes fluttered open, the glow of Justice’s hand enough to illuminate the immediate area. Using his left hand, Anders relit the now visible candle beside his cot with a snap of his fingers, the last of the tension and fear finally leaving his body as they were bathed in its warm glow. Justice’s hand was still resting against Anders’ cheek, and the spirit traced his thumb over the mage’s lips as a thought came to their shared mind.

_You are not alone._ The words flitted through Anders’ consciousness, a thought that clearly did not belong to him. _I am here for you._

Anders couldn’t help but smile. Justice was right, after all. He was never alone anymore, not truly. And as the healer settled back into his cot, Justice’s presence gently resting against his, the closest thing they could get to cuddling, it was comforting. It wasn’t long before the mage managed to drift back to sleep, mostly because of the knowledge that he wasn’t alone, and that he never would be again.


	4. Touch (Anders/Justice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the #JusticePositive event on tumblr

Touch. It was something Justice could only observe in the mortals around Vigil’s Keep or taste wisps of in Kristoff’s memories before merging with Anders. It was something he wished to experience, but most responded to the previous body he inhabited with revulsion and disgust. And even if that were not true, Kristoff’s deadened nerves provided him with no way to actually feel sensations. To truly feel things, to experience the sensations that came with mortal existence, was but one of many gifts given by Anders when they merged.

Touch, and the intimacy it could bring between two beings, remained one of Justice’s fascinations, and it was only made more intriguing by being able to truly _feel_ such things. An arm brushing against Anders’ in a busy marketplace, an embrace from a grateful patient, a comforting hand on their shoulder. These sensations were almost mundane to Anders, but Justice’s mind was set alight by them. It was something beautiful, something the spirit wished they could both experience more often.

And this desire was only made more insistent by knowing how much Anders craved it. His memories were filled with touches of all kinds, many harsh and unjust, but others were still pleasant and wonderful. Justice found himself not only wishing to experience these sensations, but being able to provide them as well. Anders had given him many things, and the spirit was more grateful for this than he could ever describe in the meager length of a mortal life. But there were other ways he could show this appreciation.

A glowing hand running gently through golden hair, combing through the silken strands and eliciting relaxed sighs from the mage while Justice wrapped his presence around Anders’ mind, a non-physical attempt at what mortals called cuddling. One hand cupping a cheek, the thumb running gently across lips that pushed forward in a kiss, followed by a radiant smile from the healer and an affectionate nudge of their consciousnesses. Fingers gently tracing along the sides and back of a neck, running down over shoulders and chest, pausing to rest in the centre and feel the beats of a mortal heart, warmth flowing between their minds. All of these, and many more, were what Justice could give Anders, pleasant feelings both physical and incorporeal that let him know he was loved.

For that is what Justice would realize he felt for this mortal, _his_ mortal. Love. The desire to protect, to care for, to treasure someone above all else. There was no other word for this emotion, one the spirit did not know before, _feared_ to know before. But even when he only knew love as the fragmented memories of Aura in Kristoff’s mind, he’d seen no mortal emotion more beautiful than this one, even if his own desire for it frightened him.

But now, there was no fear, only a warm glow in their shared mind and heart, a prickling joy that rivalled even the beauty he’d found in the song of lyrium. The love Justice felt for Anders, and that Anders felt for him, was something far too precious to ever be wrong. It soothed a deep ache within the mage, one that was hidden to all but Justice, and it made the spirit feel truly exultant. Their shared love was beyond anything he’d ever even imagined in the Fade, something magnificent beyond measure, something that did not hinder his purpose, but helped fulfill it.

For few things could be more just than providing someone so beautiful and worthy of devotion the very thing he’d craved for far too long.


	5. Glowing (Anders + Justice)

Anders glows when he sleeps. Not the harsh, blinding glare usually associated with Justice, but a faint, almost unnoticeable light emanating from him. And if it’s dark enough, and one looks closely enough, the faintest outlines of the familiar cracks in his skin can be seen. This is because, when he sleeps, Justice is both more connected to the Fade, as it is the land of dreams, and closer to the surface, for his host is not in control. 

It’s not as if it’s bright enough to keep anyone awake, even when laying right next to him, but it is enough to help the mage sleep. For this glow gives just enough light to keep the suffocating darkness away, and the unkind memories such blackness brings.


	6. Various headcanons (Anders/Hawke)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from anon on tumblr: "I see all these great DA3 couple lists, how they kiss, sleep together, the first time they think ' I love you', how they cry, or deal with a possessed inquisitor... and its all really cool. I was wondering if you can do something like that for Anders. :3"

**How he kisses** : Anders has two kinds of kisses. One is explosive, almost desperate; it is passion incarnate, nearly engulfing his lover completely as he roughly pulls them against him, as though they are his only tether to this world. The other is tender, slow and gentle; he takes the time to enjoy it, drinking in the moment as if it could last forever. The first kind comes when he is afraid, both of losing them and himself, while the second comes when he finally feels safe, secure in their embrace. His kisses are both the calm and the storm, much like himself, and any lover of his must learn to take pleasure in both, else they be swept away entirely.

 **How they sleep together** : Anders and Hawke sleep in a tangled knot of limbs, always staying close together, even on the warmest of nights. The positions change; sometimes they spoon, sometimes Anders’ head is on their chest, sometimes their face is buried in his neck, but they are always cuddled close. When he wakes in the night in a cold sweat, panicked and breathing heavy, Hawke is there, and though he always feels guilty for waking them, their soothing words and gentle fingers running through his hair and down his spine are the only things that can calm him enough to fall back asleep.

 **First time he thinks ‘I love you’** : The thought comes suddenly, and does not bring the joy one would expect. Hawke is flashing him that grin of theirs, right after doing something nice for him, like bringing him a hot meal or even just checking in to see how he’s doing, when those three little words come to mind, unbidden. The realization is heavy, settling like a rock in his belly. He knows he can’t have this, can’t give them what they deserve, that he’ll only hurt them. Yet something inside him is euphoric, perhaps at the idea of the void in his heart finally being filled, and he doesn’t quite have the will to bury it completely.

 **How he cries** : Despite the heavy weight on his shoulders, Anders doesn’t cry much. He learned young not to, that showing any weakness made him vulnerable. But when the weight feels like it’s about to crush him, his shoulders will start to shake, stifled sobs barely audible as the tears begin to flow. He’s able to keep it controlled only until he feels a hand on his back, hears a voice tell him ‘it’s okay’, and then he’s buried in their chest, letting free all the pain he held inside, only able to do so because of the arms encircling him, telling him that they’re here, that it really is okay, that he’s _safe_.

 **Dealing with possessed Hawke** : Anders is on the defensive; dodging, deflecting, and healing when he has to, refusing to outwardly strike at them. He calls their name, desperate, his voice somewhere between a scream and a sob, all while fully knowing they can’t hear him, that there’s nothing left of _Hawke_ inside them. Justice rails against his mind, begging to be released so they can grant Hawke a mercy and end this, but, for once, he’s able to force the spirit back, at least for a little while. Anders knows he can’t save them, that he can’t keep this up forever, that he can only resist Justice for so long, but he _will not_ be the one to strike them down.


	7. Friend (Anders + Justice, maybe Anders/Justice)

Justice being able to sense when Anders gets anxious, manifesting just enough to run the mage’s hand along his chest, his neck, through his hair; gentle touches to help soothe a panicked mind.

Justice walking Anders’ body to the nearest bed when he collapses at his desk, or in any other location that could lead to discomfort in the morning, making sure the precious little sleep Anders does manage to get counts.

Justice watching others carefully, trying to learn just how often mortals need to eat, eventually coming to understand the need well enough to remind Anders when he realizes the mage has skipped yet another meal.

Justice helping Anders to cope with their reality and the many other problems weighing him down, caring for him as best he can despite his limited knowledge of exactly what his host needs.

Because Anders is his _friend_ , and though many mortal concepts continue to confuse and elude the spirit, Justice does know what that means.


	8. NSFW OTP Voice Meme (Anders/Justice and Anders/Karl)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the NSFW OTP Voice Meme on tumblr. The idea was to write 500 character smutty drabbles (so they'd fit in asks), and then the person who received them would record themselves reading them aloud.
> 
> These were written for Felixbug and Arcanefeathers, respectively.

“You are mine.” Justice growls and he pounds into the mage bent and braced against the wall before him, the blonde whimpering and moaning which each thrust into his slickened entrance, his own cock hanging heavy and untouched between his legs. A glowing hand finds purchase in golden strands, makes a fist and pulls, the spirit relishing in the way Anders’ back arches and strains. Justice’s other hand reaches down and strokes the mage’s cock, lips by his ear and he hisses, “Come for me, mortal.”

* * *

“You scared me.” Karl murmured between hot, wet kisses from the blonde mage before him in the darkened corner of the library. Time was short, but they were too caught up in grinding against each other to care, Anders rocking his arousal against the knee pressed between his legs with heavy, silent gasps. “I’m sorry.” Anders said with a grin before dropping to his knees and lifting up Karl’s robes. “I’ll make it up to you.” And then Karl felt the wet heat of Anders’ mouth around his hardened cock.


	9. Thunderstorm (Justice/Reader)

Justice kisses like a thunderstorm. Lips meeting roughly, all intense need and desperation – the movements of an amateur, but with none of the hesitation. Your lips clash and teeth clink briefly, followed by the electric taste of the Fade flooding your senses when his tongue slips through parted lips.

Glowing hands grip tightly, nearly bruising, at your hips, and he forces you back against the wall with a _thud_ , a low growl ripping from his throat when you gasp. His lips finally break from yours, and when your gaze locks with his burning one, you realize just how weak your knees are, how much your head is spinning from his overpowering presence.

It’s only a moment later when his lips begin moving on your neck, your fingers bunching in his coat like claws as he mouths his way down, biting, sucking, and licking, surely marking you, _claiming_ you as his. Moans and whimpers spill from your lips, turning to a sharp cry when his teeth sink into your shoulder, and something in the back of your mind wonders if he’s going to draw blood.

Spirits were never meant to do this, that’s what most said. But when he finally pins you down, clothes torn to shreds, and takes you as you’ve been begging him to, you can’t help but think they had to be wrong. Justice was the embodiment of a virtue, an ideal given life, but the way he thrusts into you, the way you fit so perfectly together feels too right to ever be wrong. And even though he’s not alone in that body, you know that _this_ is all Justice.

His touch sparks, tingling with a slight burn, even after, when you’re lying together, chests heaving. The spirit was intimidating, yes, but he could also be tender, brushing loose hair from your sweat damp forehead and pressing a kiss to your temple. He was radiant, terrifying, beautiful, and so much more, altogether a lover like no other you’ve had, leaving you with the taste of a thunderstorm on your tongue.


	10. Frost (no pairing)

Magic was in his blood, so deeply a part of him that Anders could never forget it, nor would he ever wish to. He knew the uses, the beauty of it all, despite what the Chantry told him he should believe about it, about himself for having access to it. Even the simplest of healing spells could mend torn skin or broken bones. Fire gave potentially life-saving warmth. Electricity could provide both pleasure and pain. Most forms of magic could provide self-defence, or could be used to protect others. And he used all of these often, for all of the above purposes.

But it was ice that Anders turned to the most, despite his role as a healer. Sure, it was useful in battle, literally freezing an enemy in their tracks, but that wasn’t what he found so valuable about it. When everything was too much, _too much_ , **_too much_** , it was a shock of cold on his skin that best brought him back to centre. A frost-coated hand placed on the back of his neck, never enough to hurt, but just enough to remind him of sensation, remind him that he’s _real_. Watching the glistening crystals slowly crawl from the tips of his fingers up his arm, hypnotic and calming, requiring just enough focus to calm a rapid heartbeat and shortened breaths. Icy fingers pressed to his temples when his head started to pound, feeling like it was going to explode under the pressure of his own racing thoughts.

Cold was considered a nuisance, at best, by most people, always complaining the moment they stepped outside and felt winter’s harsh touch. But Anders knew better. The cold could hurt, could burn and bite and sting, but it didn’t always. Sometimes that sharp, snapping freeze, enough to shock but not to cause pain, could provide sweet relief and give him exactly what he needed.


	11. Untitled (Anders/Justice)

Anders was strong, so much more so than Justice even thought mortals capable of. All of the hardship, pain, injustices he’d endured had done little to temper him. He’d been through so much designed to break him, went through more every day, yet he never faltered, never shattered like his oppressors wished him too. And there was strength in his tears, as well, something he failed to see before Justice was able to show him. For on the nights where he wanted nothing more than to give in, to stop, he would still fight, tooth and nail, even when the enemy was his own mind, one that knew every weak point and struck them without fail. Yet still, Anders endured, continued on even after experiencing pain and sorrow that was far beyond what Justice could even comprehend.

Anders was brave, never backing down no matter how many times he was threatened, brushed off, or hurt for it. He stood for what was right, fought for it, put everything he had into it even at the risk of himself. Anders knew what the consequences of his actions may be, yet he showed no hesitation. There was fear sometimes, yes, fear of what could come, fear that it’d all be for naught, but he fought on anyways. Many days and nights held nothing but terror for Anders, yet he rose to meet them every time. Justice could not help but marvel and admire the courage it took to face torments from both others and his memories, especially when it was a daily occurrence.

Anders was beautiful, and not just from the physical perspective. Justice thought all mortal bodies were beautiful in their uniqueness, Anders’ being no exception. But what was beautiful about him was more than just a pleasing physical form (which he certainly had as well, make no mistake). No, it was the passion within that Justice truly found beautiful, the drive and determination that he had not seen matched in any other mortal being. The tenacity with which he pursued what mattered and what was right was something Justice loved and respected above all else, and it was probably this that made the spirit fall in love with him in the first place. Anders was a beacon of hope for all those who needed it, and that made him far more beautiful than his body ever could.

But most importantly, Anders was _his_ , in every way. They shared both mind and body, and somehow even more. When Justice had first brought up the idea of a merger, he’d never thought it would grow into this, so much more than he could’ve ever anticipated or imagined. Anders was his strong, brave, beautiful mortal. And if the spirit had found the decaying memories of the love shared between Kristoff and Aura beautiful and worthy of awe, he had no words to describe his relationship with Anders, or the love shared between them. For of all the wonderful, beautiful things Justice had seen in the mortal world, Anders was the greatest of them all.


	12. Beautiful (Anders/Justice)

“I have something for you.” Justice said without pretense, looking only a touch out of place standing in the doorway of Anders’ quarters during their downtime still in full armour.

“Huh?” The mage put the book he was reading down on the bed and rolled over to look at Justice, quirking an eyebrow.

The spirit then held out something in his hand, and Anders huffed before standing up and walking over to see what Justice had brought him. Perhaps it was orders from the Warden-Commander, or a potion, or something like that. It wouldn’t be the first time Justice had brought over some important item, and Anders fully expected to be given something useful.

What Anders found in Justice’s hand, however, was not practical at all. Instead, a flower with orange petals that turned to a brilliant red towards the centre rested in Justice’s open palm. If asked, Anders might’ve said that a flower was the absolute last thing he expected to be given by his rather unconventional friend, and yet, that’s apparently exactly what was happening.

“You’re giving me… a flower?” Anders asked, not bothering to hide his bewilderment.

“Yes. I thought it was beautiful, and Sigrun suggested I bring it back to Vigil’s Keep.” The spirit explained, “I understand it is customary among mortals to give flowers to those whose company you enjoy.”

Anders’ eyes widened, and he wasn’t sure whether to blush or laugh. This was far from the first time Justice had misunderstood something like this, or that Anders had explained it. They spent most of their nights these days talking, and much of that time was devoted to Anders answering Justice’s questions about mortals and their world. But somehow, it seemed a little different when the resident walking corpse dropped by with a romantic gesture.

“Oh Maker, Justice.” Anders started, trying to figure out how best to word this. “I appreciate the thought, but usually flowers aren’t given to those you’re friends with. They're not for someone whose company you enjoy, but someone whose ‘company’ you enjoy.”

When Justice tilted his head in confusion, Anders realized his mistake in using subtlety, something he knew better than to do with the spirit. “Romantic partners, Justice. It’s usually for when you’re dating or sleeping with someone, and I’m pretty confident you’re not here to seduce me.”

Justice’s eyes widened. “Ah, I see. It is a courtship ritual. I apologize, Anders, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I can see why you would not want it.”

As the spirit started to pull his hand away and turned to leave, Anders stopped him. “Well… I didn’t say that. You were right about one thing: it is very pretty.”

“If you wish to have it, then I will give it to you. That was my intention.” Justice said, turning back to face Anders again. “Though we are not courting, and I did not mean to suggest that we should, I like you. I feel it is right to give you beautiful things.”

Anders swore he felt a hint of a blush coming on, though he didn’t fully understand why. “I would like it, Justice. We’re friends, and I like you too.”

With that, Anders reached forward to gently pluck the flower from Justice’s outstretched palm. The mage admired the petals for a moment, trying to decide exactly what he was going to do with the gift, before he had an idea. He pushed his currently loose hair behind one ear, then gently tucked the flower in as well and adjusted it slightly until he was satisfied it wasn’t going to fall out.

When he was done, Anders grinned and looked up at Justice again. “So? How does it look?”

The spirit seemed to consider for a moment, staring down at Anders in a way the mage once found unsettling, before simply saying, “Beautiful.”


	13. Cats (Anders + Kirkwall Crew)

I feel like there might be this sort if unspoken agreement among the Kirkwall crew to always point out nearby cats if Anders is in the party.

Hawke does it because they care about their friend/lover and know how much the little moments of freedom and happiness mean to him. They also know the stories, about Pounce, and Mr. Wiggums before him, that make the mage’s borderline unhealthy affinity for cats suddenly completely understandable. And if he looks completely fucking adorable while petting the animals with a big smile on his face, well, that’s just the icing on the cake.

Varric does it because even though he believes there is absolutely nothing dignified about a grown man cooing at small, furry creatures that usually seem mostly disinterested in the attention, he knows how much stress the mage is under and wants nothing more than for him to just relax for once. And hey, Blondie deserves some moments where he can just enjoy the simple things in life and be as completely undignified as he pleases.

Merrill not only likes pointing them out, but often joins the healer in his apparent endeavour to pet every cat in Thedas. She loves them too, even if she can’t afford one of her own, and petting them makes her happy. Not as happy as it makes Anders, but it’s always nice when she can see him smile for once instead of always being so sad, and it gives them something pleasant to talk about for a change.

Fenris does it not because he actually cares at all, no, of course not, why the hell would he care about the mage’s happiness? It does tend to shut him up, though, trading the rants about mage rights for a string of increasingly strange and nonsensical endearments that are still somehow far less irritating. Or, at least, that’s the reason he always gives when questioned, vehemently denying any possibility of kindness as a motivation.

Aveline gives a huff as she points out the nearest cat, looking very much the same as a parent of a child who has just spotted a particularly interesting object to play with and is now begging for permission to go do just that. She may not be his biggest fan, but this bizarre group of friends Hawke has put together is the closest thing to family she has now, and Aveline takes care of her own, difficult and irritating mages included.

Isabela does it because he enjoys it, so why not? Sure, he could have far more interesting pursuits than petting small balls of fluff, but hell, if it makes him happy, he deserves it. The poor guy never gets a chance to really lighten up anymore. Besides, she can’t deny that some of those cats are damn cute, and sometimes she joins him and Merrill, sharing stories about the mousers she used to have on her ship.


	14. Mistletoe (Anders/Hawke)

“Almost done with that box, love?” Hawke called, from halfway inside their own box of Christmas decorations.

“Uhh, almost, yeah.” Anders called back, pulling the last of the garland out and then looking back in. “Just this, and… mistletoe, apparently.”

Anders wasn’t exactly sure how someone could even _acquire_ this many boxes of decorations, but he had to admit, he was somewhat enjoying this. He’d never really been fond of the holidays before, but Hawke had somehow managed to make this time of year pleasant. It was so… domestic. And Anders found himself happy despite the fact that they’d been at this for a good two hours already.

“Mistletoe, huh? That definitely needs to go up.” Hawke said, finally emerging from the box with two handfuls of tree ornaments.

Anders couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “As if I need an excuse to kiss you.”

“We may not _need_ an excuse, but I could do with one.” They replied, smirking just a touch, as they walked to the tree and started hanging ornaments.

“If you insist. Here.” Anders said, smiling and throwing the small, fake plant in their direction. “You find a place for it.”

Hawke looked down, quickly freed a hand and then picked it up. “Oh, you have no idea what power you’ve just given me.”

Anders frowned as he looked around, trying to find a place for even more garland. The tree was already stuffed to the brim, and they’d wrapped garland around everything in the house that even resembled a banister. Maybe around the inside of the windows would work? Maker, was Hawke capable of doing anything without going completely over the top?

_Stupid question_. He thought, smiling to himself.

“I trust you with it.” Anders called back, beginning work on lining the window frame with garland.

Hawke remained quiet after that, and Anders stepped back after he’d done about half the work to appraise what he’d accomplished. It didn’t look half bad, if he did say so himself. He then finished attaching the garland, happy to discover the length had been perfect, and stepped back again, pleased with his work. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this decorating thing after all.

“Hey, Anders, look! I found a place for the mistletoe.” Hawke suddenly called, sounding far too pleased with themself.

Anders turned, looking up and expecting to find it secured to the ceiling somewhere. When he saw nothing, he brought his gaze down to Hawke, confused. His lover was grinning, and Anders didn’t know why until something lower caught his eye.

_Oh Maker_. He thought, as he discovered just what Hawke had done. Attached to the top of their pants somehow, resting just above their crotch, sat the mistletoe. Anders was rendered silent for a moment, before bursting out laughing.

“Really, love?” He said, before another peal of laughter took over. “You couldn’t have been a touch less obvious?”

“Was that even a question?” They asked, raising an eyebrow. “And I happen to think it’s the perfect place for it.”

“Right. Another thing I don’t need an excuse to do.” Anders said, smirking now. “The question is: are you really willing to stop in the middle of decorating for me to fulfill that request?”

Hawke pondered for a moment. “You’re right, we need to finish first. But I think I’ll leave this riiiiight here. As a reminder.”

“Of course.” Anders said, snickering.

He had no idea how he’d managed to find someone like Hawke, someone who was basically the perfect combination of what he needed and wanted in a partner. But the silly moments like this helped to remind Anders just how lucky he was, and how much he really did love them. Even if those silly, little moments involved entirely inappropriate uses for holiday decorations that promised some far less silly moments afterwards.


	15. Fantasy (Anders/Female Hawke)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday present for tumblr user ominousdeer. I attempted to write her character, Ragna Hawke, for this (and hopefully succeeded?), thus the gender specification in this one

Anders was trapped, chained and surrounded by Templars with no way out. They’d caught him unawares; he’d been half-asleep, barely clothed, and completely unarmed. He’d been knocked unconscious, Justice suppressed somehow, and brought to some dungeon he assumed was in the Gallows, but he didn’t know for sure. Not that it really mattered where he was at this point, anyways.

His captors watched him with sinister expressions as one fiddled with some sort of device he assumed to be the brand for the Rite of Tranquility. What else would they do with him if they weren’t going to kill him? And if they were going to kill him, he assumed they would have done it already. So there was only one possible fate left for him.

The mage struggled as the Templars came closer, wanting to cry out but unable to find his voice. Just as they reached out to grab him, however, the door crashed open dramatically behind them, and all eyes in the room snapped to the doorway, and the figure standing within it.

Bathed in the light of the hall outside stood Hawke, shining daggers drawn and already covered in the blood of presumably every Templar between the entrance and this room. She was a picture of danger and beauty, and Anders couldn’t have envisioned a more welcome sight. If he’d been in a less serious situation, he probably would have swooned.

“You’ve all made a huge mistake.” She declared, her words a heavy threat. “If you thought you could touch him and live, well, I’m about to prove you wrong.”

And then Hawke was on them, moving faster than the Templars could counter. Precise, deep cuts felled them one by one. The final Templar, likely their Commander, thought he could catch the rogue by surprise, coming up behind her as she dropped the last one of his comrades. Instead of an opportunistic attack, however, his only reward was a dagger driven into his eye without Hawke even looking. The Templar screamed, a sound that was cut off only a heartbeat later when she spun, slitting his throat.

Hawke stepped over the bodies, towards Anders, and unlocked his shackles with practiced lock picking skills. She then wrapped him up in her strong arms, holding him tightly as the mage melted into her embrace, finally feeling safe even in his bedraggled state and with what had just happened.

“Are they all…?” Anders asked as soon as he trusted his voice.

“Yes, they’re all dead, love.” Hawke assured him, squeezing a little tighter. “I promised you I’d kill them all.”

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She continued a moment later, straightening and scooping Anders up bridal-style with those muscled, glistening arms of hers despite their height difference.

The mage couldn’t agree more, relaxing into her hold as she stepped over the Templar bodies that littered the room and the hall outside. She carried him out, far away from that awful dungeon, and off into the sunset towards her estate where they would ravage each other over and over again until they were both exhausted and–

**_THUMP_ **

Anders jolted at the noise of the front door being shut, realizing that Hawke was home and he’d been daydreaming for Maker only knows how long. He knew she was on her way to their room, where he’d been sitting at the desk and failing to work all day. The mage looked down, seeing that virtually nothing had gotten done while he’d been fantasizing and, to his dismay, there was an impressive puddle of drool next to the nearly blank paper. Damn. And he hadn’t even gotten to the fun part of the fantasy. He had so many plans…

The door to their bedroom opened and Anders hurriedly tried to at least wipe his chin as he turned to greet his lover. Hawke was already stripping weapons from her form when she walked in, dumping her daggers on the chest at the foot of the bed before walking over to the mage at the desk.

“Hey, love.” Anders greeted. “Anything exciting happen?”

“Not this time.” She replied, “Just more thugs with death wishes. How’s your manifesto going?”

“Oh, uh, alright, I guess.” He said, stammering a bit as she leaned over to look at the paper. “Not the most productive day, I suppose.”

She was frowning at the paper now. “Apparently not. Writer’s block again?”

“Ah, no, just a little distracted is all.” Anders said sheepishly, realizing he was starting to blush.

Hawke apparently noticed that, and was now looking straight at him. “Distracted? By what?”

Anders knew by the tone of her voice he wasn’t getting out of this one, so he decided to just be honest, though that didn’t make him stop blushing. “Well, if you must know… Remember that fantasy I told you about at Chateau Haine?”

That piqued her interest, and a predatory smirk formed on her face. “Oh yes, I remember that one very well.”

“Well, I was trying to rework it a little bit…” Anders said as Hawke took his chin in one hand and tipped his face upward.

“Were you now?” She paused to give him a bruising kiss, then broke away and pulled him up to stand. “Well, I think you should tell me all about it. Now.”

Anders shivered, loving the dominance in her voice as she began backing him towards the bed. He started at the very beginning, with his capture, her bursting in for the rescue, and then her carrying him off into the sunset with him still half-clothed so she could have her way with him once they were safe and sound. And, well, even if his fantasy had been cut off before he got to imagine that last part, actually getting to act it out was certainly a better outcome.


End file.
